Gypsy Magic
by clarcster
Summary: In which Bulgaria tells Serbia something he doesn't want to hear. BulgSerb if you squint. Intentional crack and Balkan OC heavy.


_A/N: I am a horrible person and I have no idea why I wrote this. Actually I do. It's because my muses wouldn't leave me alone if I didn't. Go figure. The idea's prolly been done before. Content is potentially offensive if you're a hardcore patriot._

* * *

As if world conferences weren't difficult enough on their own.

Appearances were going to be everything, that day, in spite of any discomfort. He needed to forget he was there to discuss the poor states of everyones' economies, or global warming, or NATO's next missions. He needed to put focus his mind on the task at hand, now. Perhaps the matter was less pressing than the issues the meeting was held to discuss – oh, yes, it probably was. But he'd chosen that day to go through with it, and really, he couldn't prolong it any longer.

The UN conference room had mostly cleared for a break... America had called for one after his latest obnoxious decision had apparently gone too far (he wasn't really listening to the details), and England had gone near berserk and thrown a jug of water at him. Asides from the small pairs and groups seated at certain points of long table, the building's cleaner mopping up the large spillage of water, and he himself, the room was empty.

It was a little worrying, Bulgaria thought, scanning his eyes briefly over a few of his neighbours. They sat at the furthest end of the table, huddled around a piece of paper. It might have been an important document they were discussing... Or it might have been a game of hangman they were playing; he was too far away to be able to tell. Not that he cared, either way, though he supposed he shouldn't interrupt something that might be important.

He counted the small audience. Albania, Montenegro, Macedonia... He'd seen Bosnia leave the room just before. The three others only served to make the task easier, he told himself. His eyes fell then onto Serbia. It was hard to try to soften his gaze whilst looking at that asshole, but again, keeping up appearances was important, or he was never going to believe him... Not about _this_.

He inhaled a deep breath, and took several easy strides down the room to where the other Balkan nations were seated, glancing once at Albania as he poked at the piece of paper with a pen and spoke up monotonously, their conversation only now loud enough to hear, "Seven letters, a type of fruit."

"Romania!" Serbia cackled.

Albania casually struck a line on the piece of paper.

"Geh! What the hell? I was joking!" Serbia raised his voice, pushing forward across the table and grabbing for the pen. Albania held it out of his reach. "That doesn't count, dammit!"

They all seemed to be engrossed in their game. After stopping besides where Montenegro was seated, Bulgaria cleared his throat. The four of them paused, and turned their heads up towards him. Since he hadn't just said hi and taken a seat, they had apparently picked up on the fact that he was there to tell them something, not hang out.

"Yeah? Whaddya want?" Serbia asked, frowning and slumping back in his seat.

He glanced at each of their expectant looks. Albania made a sneaky hand move towards the piece of paper, adding on more parts of the hangman whilst the other three weren't paying attention.

"I need to talk to you." For once, Bulgaria didn't match Serbia's wry tone of voice.

"I'm here, _bre_. Talk." He replied, folding his arms.

He'd always found it irritating, how Serbia could just sit there and respond so nonchalantly, like he owned the damn place. But no, this wasn't the time to get angry at him. Not today.

He'd played out the words many times in his head, knowing by now exactly what to say, and how to say it. Feeling all of their eyes locked on him, though he himself was only staring across the table at the recipient of his announcement, he inhaled through his nose, and said plainly, yet calmly, "Serbia, I'm pregnant. And it's yours."

The pen dropped out of Albania's grasp. Macedonia spat her mouthful of tea back into the cup. Serbia's smug expression just dropped into one of shock.

"Wh... _What._" He didn't even phrase it like a question. He simply just muttered it out, in what was probably the quietest tone he could muster.

"You heard me."

There was silence, and then, all of a sudden, Serbia let out a loud cackle of laughter, though it was strained. "G-Get out of here, _bre_! You're a man, not to mention a _country_! _HAH_! You can't- You can't be...!"

It was difficult to keep a straight face and a cool head with him laughing like that, but Bulgaria swallowed down a shaky feeling that threatened to seep into his voice. "Gypsy magic." Oh, how remarkably horrible it was to have to say that.

But it seemed to work. Serbia's entire cocky demeanour disappeared at once. In its place was one of dismay; of fear. His jaw was lax, his eyes were wide, and the colour had drained from his face at once.

"We can't keep hiding our relationship from everyone." Bulgaria looked between the other three again in order. Macedonia looked like she didn't know what to do. Albania looked as dull-faced as usual, though there was a certain glint of confusion in his eyes; the same was to be said for Montenegro, who had one of her eyebrows cocked. "Not now." He looked back towards Serbia's panic-stricken face, remembering to keep his eyes and tone of voice gentle. "Not now I'm going to have your baby."

Serbia shuddered.

"I know it's going to be hard, especially with us being nations and all... But I'm going to raise it. Whether I do it alone or not is up to you."

Silence fell once again. The only noise was the dull muttering of the other nations at other parts of the table; all of them blissfully unaware of the dramatic conversation between the Balkans.

"Wha... _N-Ne_...! Th-This... This isn't..." Serbia continued to stammer.

Albania was the first of the other three to input a comment, glancing sidelong at Serbia once, before staring back up at Bulgaria, "Ah, so the secret of what the two of you were doing in my closet last month after draining my rakija supply has come out in the open." He picked up the pen again and added arms onto his hangman.

Bulgaria shook his head. "_Da_. Except this wasn't a drunken mistake." He looked straight at Serbia again. "I love you, Serbia. I went to the gypsy healer after we made love that night so that I could be impregnated with your child."

Where Serbia's face had paled was now flaming bright red with rage, and more than likely embarrassment, too. Macedonia gave a gasp, which sounded more like an involuntary squeal, and she covered her mouth with her hands.

"So, I ask that you and I raise the baby, together. As a loving couple."

"S-Shut _up_!" Serbia yelled, his tense shoulders beginning to shake. "Y-You bastard! _SHUT UP_!"

"Ne, I won't." Bulgaria sighed. "I love you-"

"STOP IT!"

"...I want us to be together-"

Serbia slammed his hands down on the table, which caused Macedonia to jump. "_FUCKING SHUT YOUR MOUTH_!"

"...I want us to hold each other like we did that night-"

"_SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT THE __**FUCK **__UP_!" The red on Serbia's face was going a tint of green. He looked like he was going to be sick.

Bulgaria bit the inside of his lip, prolonging the next pause. "..._Every night_."

With that, Serbia launched himself out of his seat and bolted down the room as fast as his legs would carry him. A very startled and frantic looking Macedonia squeaked out his name and chased after him mere seconds later.

The three remaining watched them leave. Upon turning towards the door, Bulgaria saw Croatia's stubbled face in the corner of his eye; the other had apparently approached, but he hadn't noticed him do so whilst he was making the announcement.

"Well done." Croatia smiled serenely, giving him a pat on the shoulder. "By the way, Albania, was the answer 'apricot'?"

"'Coconut', actually." Albania replied, as if nothing had happened.

Finally, he could drop the façade.

Bulgaria's voice deepened, and he slumped down into the seat next to Montenegro, furrowing his brow; one arm held out towards Croatia, "Pay up."

"'Gypsy magic'." Montenegro said, sounding amused. "It's quite shocking how stupid enough he was to believe that."

Croatia began to rummage through his pockets, adding with a shrug, "It's Serbia, what else do you expect?"

Montenegro shook her head slightly, turning back to Bulgaria. "I hope you realise that when he finds out you were joking, he's going to murder you."

A laid-back smirk spread onto Bulgaria's expression for the first time in that day, just as Croatia dropped a €100 note into his hand. "Oh, I know. But his face was completely worth it."


End file.
